Umbrella, light, landscape. sky–There is no language of the holy.The sacred lies in the ordinary.

from 365 Tao Meditations by Deng Ming Dao

outside it’s frigid, wet, and grayfrost is wilting the tender plantsgas heater rumbles throughout the dayold sol has strayed too far awayall I want is to cuddle in bedwith you forever – safe, warm, and dryskin to skin afloat on our downy nestunder the comfortercozily dozing – just you and IUmbrella, light, landscape, sky–

when dreaming ends – the fun beginsa touch, a kiss, tender tickleswe wiggle and spoon – form a crescent moonignore the wind and iciclesI caress your face, you touch that place like a puzzle piece you melt into methe prelude begins with tender chordsand ends in a breathless crescendotoes curled tight like a rolly pollieThere is no language of the holy.

one of us will make the coffeeone of us answers the phonehunger calls us to the kitchentake a shower, grace the throneI’d like to play in bed all dayread my book with a glass of sherrybut there’s laundry to do and bills to paywe’d better go to work we saynot practical for us to tarryThe sacred lies in the ordinary.

Almost five feet two Green eyes of blueSmall hands, Small FeetBig Heart"Don't ask yourself what the world needs Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come ali